Crunchy and Crawly
by dancing in daydreams
Summary: When the dwarves demand meat, Elrond complies. Unfortunately, elven cuisine has some rather unusual ingredients...


"My Lord Elrond, the dwarves are complaining about the food," Lindir said. "What shall we do?"

"What are they complaining about? Surely, their complaints can't be that bad. Gandalf assures me they are very cultured," Elrond replied, raising an eyebrow at the wizard.

"They are unhappy that there is no meat," Lindir said, ducking as a lump of food struck the wall right above his head. He lowered his voice. "I fear they may riot."

The smile Elrond gave him made Lindir quiver and remember who had raised Elrond.

"Why don't you bring them some aespi for the next course?" Elrond said. "Surely, we should have enough variety to please our guests."

"But will they..."

The smile was even wider than before. "If our guests demand meat, we shall give them meat. We wouldn't want our guests to be dissatisfied, would we?"

"Of course not, my Lord," Lindir replied, bowing low. He could just sense that this would end in disaster.

...

Thorin scowled as he looked out across the lights flickering all over the valley. While Bofur's song had been much more agreeable than the elves' whining tunes, it changed nothing about the fact that Gandalf had made them seek refuge with the elves.

Ori's hopeful voice brought Thorin out of his brooding. "Are those chips?"

"We call them aespi," the elf that had greeted them earlier said stiffly.

Thorin turned around and tried not to appear too eager as he made his way back to the table. He remembered these espy or whatever they were called from diplomatic meetings with the Mirkwood elves when he had been a dwarfling. They were quite possibly the only thing about elves and their way of living that wasn't entirely horrible. Or not horrible at all, if he was to be honest. In fact, eating espy had been the reason why he had looked forwards to diplomatic meetings when he was young, not that he would admit it to anyone. And as for the rumours about what the espy really were, well, never mind those.

Balin raised an eyebrow knowingly when Thorin sat down. "Looks like this visit has its upsides, doesn't it?"

"Do you think they have the ones deep-fried in garlic batter?" Thorin asked.

"Look over there," Balin said, nodding at a bowl of chip-like treats.

Thorin casually reached over and set the bowl down right next to his hand. He hadn't eaten these in decades and he would be happy to fight any elf that wanted to take them away again.

Thorin looked around the table. The younger dwarves were eagerly tasting the different tastes and even some of the older dwarves were cautiously trying the new food. Bombur had followed Thorin's lead and had claimed one of the bowls as his own, rapidly emptying it. Bifur sniffed at an aespi and let it drop back into the bowl.

"What are these?" Fíli asked, stuffing another handful into his mouth. "They aren't chips, but they are crunchy and taste nice and spicy."

"These ones are baked in honey," Ori said. "I think they come in different flavours.

"I think it's bacon," Kíli declared. "Bacon tastes great with everything."

"No, it tastes like chicken," Fíli said. "I'd bet my favourite sword that it is chicken."

"Should we tell them?" Thorin quietly asked Balin.

Balin shook his head. "Look at how much they are enjoying themselves. We wouldn't want to spoil their appetite, who knows when we will have food this good again. And the rumours might as well have been just that: rumours."

...

Dwalin eyed the new food suspiciously. It had been nice of the elves to bring them meat but if there was one thing he didn't trust elves to be, it was nice. Besides, he didn't trust deep-fried food anyway. There was no knowing what little chunks of awfulness had been thrown into the batter. When he had been forced to visit untrustworthy taverns for his work or on the road, Dwalin had often discovered things like slugs, pure lard, gristle, old shoe soles and completely unidentifiable lumps in various deep-fried foods. And while Balin liked to tease him that he was almost as picky as Ori in situations like this, Dwalin preferred to stick with foods he already knew.

So instead of trying the chip-like things Bilbo, the young dwarves and some of the older dwarves were eating, Dwalin reached for the pancakes. While not exactly a dinner food, pancakes were good, solid and reliable. Dwalin liked pancakes.

Eagerly, Dwalin took a big bite. The pancake was soft and fluffy, just the way Dwalin liked it. There were crunchy bits of meat in it, which was unusual. Probably bacon, Dwalin decided, although he briefly wondered if it might be chicken. He wouldn't have thought so, but the combination of pancake and bacon actually tasted good.

The pancake disappeared rapidly and a second and third soon followed. Dwalin marvelled as Thorin ate his bowl of aespi more quickly than even Bombur, quickly getting up to replace it. Usually, Thorin wasn't that much more eager to try new foods than Dwalin was.

"Excuse me, Mister Elf," Kíli asked and Dwalin could hear his slight hesitation about how to address the elf playing the harp. "My brother and I have a bet going on. I'm certain these contain bacon while he swears they are made from chicken. Could you please tell us what they are made from?"

The elf laughed. "You are both wrong." The elf that had greeted them hid his face in his hands and Dwalin could hear him groan. The other elf paid him no heed. "They aren't chicken or pork. They are made from insects."

The dwarves fell silent and Dwalin felt an uncomfortable lurch in his stomach.

"Pardon, from _what_?!" Bofur asked.

"Insects." There was a loud thud as Bombur fell off his chair and hit the ground. "The ones you are holding are crickets fried in different batters."

From across the table came a moan and the distinct sound of someone's dinner trying to make its way back up their throat. Dwalin looked up to see Bilbo lurch to his feet, pale as a sheet. Dwalin looked away quickly, desperate to ignore the sounds Bilbo was making as he ran off. He was having enough difficulties trying to keep his own stomach under control as it was.

"What's wrong with him? Is he alright?" The elf asked.

"I don't know, maybe he expected his dinner to be somewhat less six-legged?" Bofur's voice from where he was sitting on the ground beside Bombur was a strange mixture of sarcasm and hysteria.

The elf didn't seem to notice. "But we remove the legs first, of course! They are too spiky to eat comfortably."

Dwalin squeezed his eyes shut and tried to take deep breaths. His stomach felt as though the legs of a thousand insects were jumping up and down at the same time, demanding to be freed. But surely he was worrying for nothing. After all, the elf was only talking about the deep-fried chunks of doom and Dwalin had been wise enough to avoid them. He had only eaten the pancakes with bacon, or perhaps chicken...

"Insects are actually quite healthy," the elf was continuing happily. "They are nutritious and easy to raise, using only a fraction of the resources that other livestock does. In fact, we only eat other meat on holidays and special occasions."

"Are you saying the meat in the pancakes..." Nori asked.

"Is made from the larvae of certain beetles, yes."

There was an army of spiky legs and squirming bodies marching in Dwalin's stomach, struggling to rise. Dwalin had a brief moment of panicked contemplation whether it was worse to keep the insects in his stomach or have them exit from his mouth, before that choice was taken from him and he felt them surge up his throat. He struggled to his feet and rushed after Bilbo, desperately hoping there would be more than one privy.

...

Thorin popped another aespi into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

"They don't really taste much worse now that the rumours were confirmed," he decided.

"No, not at all," Balin agreed. "It is just the reaction of the others that has lessened my appetite somewhat."

Thorin looked around. Bifur and Bofur had managed to revive Bombur and were helping him off the ground. Dwalin and Bilbo hadn't returned yet and Ori and Nori were a bit pale around their noses as well. Kíli, on the other hand, was dissecting the aespi on his plate with his knife and fork and Fíli was observing his progress.

"Oh look! It has those little rings on its abdomen!" Kíli said. "I can even see where the legs and wings were on this one!"

"Could... could you maybe not?" Ori asked and Thorin wondered if he would be the next to hurry off.

"Why not? This is really fascinating." Kíli held the cricket up to examine it more closely and sniffed it. "You know, I might not have eaten these if I had known what they were, but now that I've already eaten them, they did taste pretty good." He put the dissected cricket into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully and then reaching for another one.

"Could you please pass me the salad?" Ori asked and Bifur obliged with a grin.

"I think it's the batter," Balin said. "The ones we had to eat on the road after Erebor fell were barely just edible, while these are rather good."

Thorin nodded in agreement. "They were bland at best and horrible otherwise, but they did keep us alive."

They both fell silent for a while, remembering past trials and munching on aespi. Thorin's second bowl was half empty when Dwalin reappeared, this time sitting down next to Thorin and Balin.

"How nice of you to join us again," Balin said. "Are you feeling better?"

"A bit, yes," Dwalin said.

Thorin noticed he was pointedly ignoring what they were eating. Thorin was more than alright with not mentioning the previous incident or the food again, but apparently, Balin had other ideas.

"I don't know what your problem with the food is," Balin said. "It is perfectly enjoyable."

"It's made from _insects_!" Dwalin shuddered. "That is more than enough reason not to eat it."

"And since when is that a problem?" Balin asked, mischief shimmering from his eyes.

"Balin..." Thorin said in a warning tone.

"It's not like you haven't eaten them before. What do you think our parents gave us in exile to make sure we didn't starve and could grow strong instead?"

Thorin saw understanding dawn in Dwalin's eyes as they widened in horror. A few seconds passed, then Dwalin unfroze, clasping his hand over his mouth and rushing off.

"Was that really necessary?" Thorin asked. "He could have remained blissfully unaware for the rest of his life."

Balin shoved another aespi into his mouth and smiled. "He has been stealing my additional blanket for the entire journey because he refused to pack one of his own. And last time we made camp, he stole my pillow as well. This was entirely necessary."

...

It was far past midnight when Lindir entered Elrond's study.

"Well, I'd say the evening was a full success," Elrond said, laying aside his book and smiling.

"A full success?!" Lindir asked, dumbfounded.

"I had a wonderful evening chatting with Mithrandir and I believe we might have even converted a few dwarves to elven food. The young chap who didn't even want to touch green food at first wanted nothing but vegetables at the end of the evening. Mithrandir tells me a dwarf who wishes to remain anonymous even asked for more aespi for their journey and the recipes, if at all possible. I believe that just might have been Thorin Oakenshield, he seemed rather keen on the aespi. In my book, that is quite a success in the relations between elves and dwarves."

Lindir stared at Elrond. He bit his tongue, trying to keep his temper. Then he wondered if it was worth it. After all, the worst that could happen was that he would lose his position and that was _nothing_ compared to what he had been through tonight. Lindir took a deep breath.

"My Lord, do you have _any_ idea of the state they left the privy and its surroundings in?! I saw two or three of the dwarves rush away to lose their dinner when they found out what it had been made of, but by the looks of the privy, it might as well have been the entire company! I warned you! I told you not to serve them aespi! I told you to at least not let them find out what aespi are!"

Elrond looked mildly perplexed. "I don't seem to recall you doing anything of the sort."

"Well, maybe I didn't exactly say it out loud, but I should have! And you call it a success! Your guests were so disgusted by their food, that they, that they..." Lindir trailed off, thinking again of the horrors he had witnessed in the bathrooms. He shuddered. "And I had to clean it all up! I had to clean up dwarf vomit and wipe the food they had thrown from the statues! And worst of all, that stubbly fellow hit on me! I never want anything to do with dwarves again! I quit!"

Elrond raised an eyebrow. "Alright, you get a pay raise."

Lindir opened his mouth, then closed it again. He stared at Elrond. Elrond stared back. Lindir suddenly remembered all the other things those eyes had seen. He slumped his shoulders and nodded, turning to leave.

"Be sure to go to bed early. I hear dwarves are early risers and you don't want to keep them waiting for their breakfast," Elrond called after him.

Lindir closed his eyes. Why was it always him?


End file.
